


Stake Through the Heart

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Series: Stake Through the Heart [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Can i write anything where Brooke doesn't have a sad backstory lately?, F/F, Implied Anxiety, Lesbian AU, Vampires, mild implied homophobia, mild implied smut, the answer is no, this is some weird shit not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Brooke is a vampire hunter with her eyes set on killing vampire Vanjie, but things don't go according to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writworm42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/gifts).

> I actually had a vampire au in my head, and then I saw this amazing prompt from @writworm42: "If anyone is looking for a prompt of late, a branjie fic where Brooke is an Extremely Serious vampire hunter who hears legends about Vanessa and turns out Vanessa is an ennui-filled, sarcastic, chaotic good vampire (a la what we do in the shadows) who is Not At All afraid of Brooke would be complete and total poetry xx." So, I had to write the thing. Writ, I hope this is at least somewhat like what you imagined, and I hope you like it!
> 
> Please leave me feedback if you'd like, I really appreciate it!

Brooke first heard about Vanjie when she was 12.

A year after her parents were killed and she went to live with her grandmother. 

A year after she was drafted into a war she had been groomed for her entire life, a war she quickly became an honored soldier in. 

_“The Mateo clan is one of the oldest, most dangerous clans of vampires in the world,” her grandmother had explained early in her training. “Some say they go back to the 1400’s.”_

_“Vanjie is one of the most feared. She’s the last of the line. She’s been a vampire less than a century, but she’s killed more than those three times her age. Four hunters have been killed by her in the last year alone. None have ever managed to kill her.”_

Brooke shifts in the shrubs, eyes narrowing as a figure approaches. 

The brunette is yapping on the phone, parading through the cemetery like she’s at a party. Doritos fall out of a bag as she walks, a trail of fake nacho cheese breadcrumbs. Her wavy brown hair flows behind her, shining in the moonlight. 

Hand on her crossbow, Brooke stands, ignoring her screaming muscles, sore from 15 years of hunting. 

_Gotcha_, she thinks.  
\---

It’s not the first time their paths have crossed, though neither of those times went according to plan. 

The very first time, none of Brooke’s careful training could prepare her for finally seeing Vanjie. It was probably some sort of vampire charm, but Brooke couldn’t take her eyes off Vanjie and her smooth skin, mesmerized by her big brown eyes. By the time Brooke recovered her mind enough to take out her stake, Vanjie had already disappeared without so much as flashing her fangs. 

She’d taken on Vanjie with junior hunter Plastique last winter, Brooke barely escaping with her life after Plastique knocked herself out with her own crossbow, but not before it misfired and an arrow lodged in Brooke’s chest, dangerously close to her heart. 

The pain must have made her hallucinate, because she thinks she remembers Vanjie putting Hello Kitty Band-Aids over a scrape on her arm, then vanishing right as an ambulance Brooke didn’t call for arrived. 

It was probably just a hallucination. 

Though she never was able to explain the Band-Aids. 

The arrow wound took months to heal and the scar tissue still twinges when she moves wrong. 

She went back to working alone after that. She should have known it was dumb to take someone under her wing; she’s better on her own, has been since she was a kid. She threw herself into extra training, extra research. She won’t fail again.

Third times the charm, and all that nonsense.  
\---

“I know you in them woods, Blondie. Want some Doritos?” Vanjie’s voice sounds like a gangster from the movies. 

Brooke stills, heart thudding painfully. A vampire had _never_ been able to pick out her hiding place. Vanjie _was_ as good as the legends said. 

“Come on out,” Vanjie continues. “I don’t bite. Well, not on the first date, anyway.” 

Brooke tightens her grip on the crossbow and moves silently out to the gravestones. 

“You here to kill me? You could at least buy me dinner first. Seriously. Minimum wage is shit. A bitch is broke.” Vanjie stands with her hips cocked and inspects her crimson nail polish. 

Brooke doesn’t say a word. She inches closer, her finger on the release. She should have already pulled it. _ Why hasn't she? And why aren't Vanjie's fangs out?_

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” Vanjie demands. “You pretty impressive, I’ll give you that. But you can only be so scary when you smell like lavender. Are you, like, 90?” 

Well, the lavender body wash was supposed to be calming, not that it’s working considering the way Vanjie is making her blood pressure skyrocket right now. 

Vanjie sighs. “Look, if you’re gonna kill me, can we go to my apartment first? I should be allowed a last meal.” 

This is against the rules. This is _wrong_. But this is the closest she’s ever been. She can feel it in her blood. Brooke shrugs. “Lead the way.”  
\---

Brooke was always a good student, bringing home A’s as soon as she was old enough to get letter grades. She didn’t go into her hunting career unprepared. 

She started at 18, the earliest they would let her, though she’d been training and studying for 6 years. By then, she was too late to avenge her parents: the two heads of the Mateo line died mysteriously when she was 16, no hunter taking the credit for it. 

But Brooke still worked. Within months, she was a top hunter, killing vampires that had been around for centuries. Each one was just practice, an appetizer before the feast. 

Last year, after months of studying the Mateos, she set her sights on Vanjie. 

She knows Vanessa Isabella “Vanjie” Mateo was born October 1930, the youngest of the Mateo line. She had been turned in the summer of 1958, when she was 27. She’d bounced around Puerto Rico and the United States, currently residing in Toronto. 

Brooke’s heard the legends, the stories of horrible vampires and the brave hunters that fought them in her ear since she was a child tucked into bed with stuffed animals. Vanjie’s were always the most gruesome stories, the ones that made her stay up all night fearfully clutching her stuffed rabbit as Brooke vowed to become the thing that vampires feared. 

According to legend, her kill count is in the thousands. 

According to legend, she ate the hearts of those she’d killed when blood wasn’t enough. 

According to legend, no hunter to engage in combat with her has ever walked away alive.  
\--- 

Brooke’s hands sweat. _She's not following the rules_. She’s certain no hunter has ever been to a vampire’s home. But it’ll be worth when she gets revenge for her parents. When she kills the most dangerous vampire in recent history. When she becomes the brave hunter in the stories parents tell their kids. 

“You mind if I change first? I always say my job is gonna be the death of me, but I’d rather not die in this thing.” 

The blue polyester polo _is_ ugly, though Brooke thinks it looks unreasonably good on Vanjie. 

“Okay.” 

Brooke takes in the messy kitchen with its checkerboard floor. Takeout containers are piled in the sink. None of the chairs match; one is a rocking chair, one is shaped like a giant hand, and one has ornate trim and red velvet lining. A goldfish swims in a soda bottle filled with water, while mysterious green liquid bubbles in a fishbowl. The refrigerator has stickers reading “Meme Wall”, and is hidden beneath cut-out pictures of people and quotes even Brooke admits she can relate to. Strings of Pokémon cards serve as a pantry door, a lava lamp glows purple on the table, pink streamers hang from the ceiling light, just brushing the floor. Brooke forces her eyes down on the floor before her head explodes. 

Something doesn’t add up. _Where was the creepy dungeon stuff Vanjie had in the legends?_ This place looks like a bunch of stoned college kids decorated it. _And why was Vanjie being nice to her?_ She can’t let her guard down. This is probably all a ruse; how Vanjie lures hunters in before she kills them. 

She is still standing, bow slung over her back, stake in its thigh holster, when Vanessa comes back in black leggings and a sleeveless shirt made of flowy red silk. 

“Stay a while, Blondie. Sit down and relax. You always so tense? Let me loosen those shoulders for ya.” Hands unclasp her bow and nudge her into a chair before clamping down on her shoulders and massaging out the aches. 

“I don’t--I’m not--my shoulders are none of your business!” She splutters, wriggling her shoulders until the hands leave, refusing to acknowledge how nice they felt. She stays in the chair, the velvet one, which smells like Sour Patch Kids mixed with wet dog. “I’m here to kill you, if you haven’t noticed!” 

“So do it. I’ll even give you an open shot.” Vanjie pulls aside her shirt, exposing the smooth skin over her not-beating heart, and Brooke forgets how to breathe. Vanjie _definitely_ has some sort of charm power. 

She makes no move for her stake. 

“That’s what I thought.” She covers her skin, breaking the spell. 

I will. Eventually,” Brooke promises. “I want answers first.” 

“You want coffee?” 

“No. It makes me jittery.” 

“Good, ‘cause I don’t have any.” Vanjie reaches for a bright orange Frisbee, dumping in cereal and milk before crumbling chocolate Pop-Tarts and Fritos over the top. 

_Where was the blood of her enemies? The hearts she ate for dinner?_ Brooke thinks she’d rather watch Vanjie eat a heart than this monstrosity. “Who the hell puts that in cereal? And why are you eating out of a Frisbee?” 

Vanjie drops into the rocking chair across from Brooke before speaking. 

“Don’t judge me. I work retail and I deserve this. One, it makes Cocoa Puffs more chocolatey, and chocolate’s my main reason to live. Or well, to not die. Plus you get salty-sweetness. And two, A’Keria’s slacking off on the dishes.” She slurps up milk. “Why’s it matter? Who says cereal has to be eaten in a bowl? You know the shit I’ve seen? The earth is dying, bees are dying, who gives a flying fuck what I eat out of? You do. I bet you eat Raisin Bran with bananas.” 

“Strawberries, actually.” 

“So little soldier girl can tell a joke.” Vanjie grins. 

Brooke has to hold her own smile back. She’s here to kill this bitch. She’s never broken procedure like this, ever, and she has to remind herself she’s only going along with Vanjie’s nonsense because she’ll do whatever it takes to kill her. 

“So, why?” Vanjie asks abruptly. 

“Why what?” Brooke sighs. She wishes this bitch would shut up already so she can kill her, because the more Vanjie talks, the farther away Brooke’s stake feels. 

“Why do you hunt? Gotta be a reason,” Vanjie challenges with a smirk. 

“My parents and grandparents were hunters.” 

“Ah, family tradition. Hear that one a lot.” She crunches on a Frito. 

“Your parents killed mine.” _Shit_. She had a strategy. She had plans, she had notes. She wasn’t supposed to blurt that out yet. 

“Well, shit.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” Brooke’s out of her chair before she knows it, stake pressing against Vanjie’s chest. “My parents _died!_ I...I was only 11!” 

Vanjie wraps her hand around Brooke’s wrist, her skin tingling. “I’m sorry. Can you give me a minute to explain? I know you’re all noble and stuff. Please hear me out.” 

Brooke sighs and settles back in her chair, holding the stake tightly. 

“I’m sorry about your parents. I really am. That must have been hard. You were just a kid.” Vanjie’s voice is impossibly soft and Brooke finds her grip loosening. “But you need to know, I was never part of their whole murder thing. My parents...they cut ties with me decades ago. I wasn’t what they wanted. I like girls, first of all. And I wouldn’t kill. I only drink animal blood. I’ve never killed _anyone_.” She takes a breath. “Well, except for them.” 

_“What?”_ She drops the stake. This could all be a lie, and Vanjie could kill her any second, but she believes her. 

“Yeah. They said I could get back into their graces if I found myself a male companion or killed a newborn baby to prove my loyalty. You know, just basic things you do for your parents to like you,” she mutters acidly. “I just fucking had it. So I killed them.” 

“Holy shit.” Vanjie’s voice is deadly calm and serious, eyes dark, and Brooke knows she’s telling the truth. 

“Yeah.” 

“But-but the legends about you! You killed more hunters than anyone! You’re one of the most feared vampires in history!” She shakes her head frantically. _How could this all be going so wrong?_

“My parents made that shit up,” Vanjie shrugs. “Couldn’t have people _know_ their daughter was a disappointment. It wasn’t like anyone was gonna fact-check ‘em.” 

“I don’t think you’re a disappointment,” Brooke says quietly. 

Vanjie bites her lip and smiles sadly. She pulls her shirt open again. “So, we gonna get this over with?” 

“Do you, like, _want_ to die?” Brooke asks, making no move to hurt Vanjie, her mind still buzzing. 

“I mean, I’m not exactly having a good time in this hellhole.” 

“Maybe you should talk to someone.” 

“That’s your advice? A fucking therapist?” 

“Sorry. My grandparents made me go to one. After, you know.” 

Vanjie nods. After a few seconds of silence she stands up and leans in, placing her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “Did you heal up okay? After your little friend got excited and shot you? Too bad I didn’t have enough Band-Aids to cover all of you.” 

“You-” Her eyes go wide. _It wasn’t a hallucination_. 

“Yeah, I remember that night. Not everyday someone knocks themselves out with their own weapon. Couldn’t forget those eyes of yours, either.” 

Vanjie’s hand slips underneath Brooke’s black T-shirt, fingers ghosting over the raised skin where the arrow pierced her. Brooke looks up at the exact second Vanjie looks down and then their lips meet. 

Vanjie’s lips are surprisingly soft and strong, pressing Brooke firmly into the chair. Vanjie’s hands roam all over Brooke’s chest and Brooke hesitantly lifts hers up to Vanjie’s back. There is no heartbeat pulsing beneath her fingers but Vanjie’s body feels infinitely alive as Brooke’s hands move to tangle in her hair. 

They break apart after what feels like years and Brooke tries to remember how to breathe. 

“That was pretty impressive, Blondie.” 

“Brooke. Not Blondie.” 

“Vanessa. Not Vanjie.” 

They both look at each other awkwardly. “So I guess that means you’re not gonna kill me?” Vanessa asks in a small voice. 

“No. I’m not.” She gathers her bow and slips her stake inside its holster. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

“Yeah. I-I should go.” 

Vanessa nods. She gives Brooke a quick hug, hand steady over Brooke’s jacket pocket. Over her heart. 

“Mind the streamers on your way out. It’s some jellyfish costume Yvie’s trying to make.” 

Brooke feels something inside her jacket pocket once she gets home. She pulls out a tiny piece of paper with a phone number on it. 

She falls asleep with the paper clenched in her hand.  
\--- 

The next day she dials the numbers that are unfamiliar to her but that she hopes become second nature. 

“Vanessa? How about that dinner?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa go on their date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally decided to write a second part to this! Thank you @writworm42 for the idea and for beta-ing! I hope you all enjoy, and I'd really appreciate any feedback you have!

_Brooke had always liked rules. _

_She liked knowing exactly what to do in every situation, rules helping silence the anxious buzzing in her mind, calming the fingers that fidgeted when she was unsure of herself._

_It was easy to know what was good and what was bad. _

_And Brooke always wanted to be good._

\---

She can only imagine how many rules she’s breaking now, knocking on a vampire’s door, rocking on the balls of her feet and shifting a bouquet of roses from hand to hand. 

She hears loud thumps on the other side of the door, followed by a screeching that makes Brooke fear a cat just met its end inside. _Maybe this is a bad idea._

“I’m coming, Mary!” Vanessa calls, and Brooke can’t help but smile through her anxiety that this is wrong. 

She opens the door, red dress matching the roses, and Brooke doesn’t care how wrong this is. Part of her reasons that Vanessa is good, hasn’t killed any humans and has done nothing to hurt her, and even if this is wrong, Brooke is willing to be wrong the rest of her life to keep this warmth rushing through her, this flutter in her heart.

“Are these for me?” Vanessa yanks the roses out of her hands. 

“Oh, um, yeah.”

She tugs Brooke inside to put them in water, and Brooke really wishes she didn’t because the kitchen is so bright and distracting it should come with a motion-sickness warning. 

Construction paper spills over the kitchen table, forming a neon-green sea for the collection of LEGO sharks chewing on Totoro playing cards in the center. The Meme Wall is going strong, and this month seems devoted to a Halloween theme, a person in all black with a pumpkin head staring at her. A Burger King cheeseburger wrapper lies crumbled on the counter beside a collection of Taco Bell sauces. Brooke peers closer and sees a sheet of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ notebook paper entitled “Days Before Silky Throws Out Her Trash”, currently bearing eight tally marks in between images of Appa and Aang.

The screeching resumes from somewhere in the apartment and Brooke instinctively goes for the stake under her black dress, being armed at all times one of the first rules of hunting. She had tried to come here without it, she really had, but she felt too exposed, too unprotected, leaving the house without the weight of it against her thigh.

“It’s okay, Brooke. No one’s in danger,” Vanessa says softly. She crosses to the hall and barks, “Silky, stop singing before you scare my woman away!”

Brooke grins and relaxes her grip. _Focus on tonight. Focus on Vanessa._

“Why do you have a vase shaped like a hot dog?” Brooke asks as Vanessa puts the flowers inside.

“Why _don’t_ you have a vase shaped like a hot dog is the real question.”

\---

_There were all kinds of rules. There were the small rules she followed at home with her parents, like putting her toys away and doing her homework before she played. These rules held when she lived with her grandparents, more strictly enforced and growing to include household chores as she got older. _

_There were school rules, like staying in line at lunch and being respectful, that Brooke followed so well her teachers always labelled her a pleasure to have in class, a title she got because the mere thought of doing something wrong and getting in trouble made her mouth dry out and her heart race, something the adolescent therapist her grandparents sent her to after her parents died had noticed and discussed with her. _

_And then, there were the most important rules of all: hunting rules._

\---

“Damn, Brooke, you drive slower than my grandmother. And she rode a _horse_,” Vanessa teases from the passenger seat. 

“I follow the speed limit,” Brooke offers in defense.

“I might turn 100 before we get to the restaurant,” she grumbles, but she smiles and eases her hand over Brooke’s thigh.

Brooke thinks of those lips and it’s enough to push down the fear. Her heart is calm as Vanessa strokes her knee.

\---

_The hunting rules were the most important. Though 8-year-old Brooke might have thought being late on homework (not that she ever was) was a matter of life and death, hunting rules truly were: the difference between killing an undead vampire, or winding up dead yourself. _

_Don’t ever let them get near your neck. Always carry a weapon. Make sure any civilians are safe before engaging in combat. If you can’t kill, wound. Flee only as a last resort._

_Brooke followed all the rules, the Hunters Guild’s top worker. She kept people safe and brought down dangerous vampires. _

_They told her she was good. _

_And that was all she ever wanted to be._

\---

“It’s so nice that whole ‘vampires can’t have garlic’ thing is bullshit,” Vanessa says as she crunches on her third slice of garlic bread. “I mean, could you even imagine life without garlic bread?”

“I might have to, since you’ve eaten half the loaf already,” Brooke mumbles. 

“Hey!”

Brooke just smiles. They talk aimlessly until the food arrives, Vanessa describing all of her roommates in detail and listing their wildest exploits. Stories range from A’keria flashing her fangs at men that bother her, to Yvie walking around in classic vampire garb just to see the reaction, to Silky jumping off a Taco Bell roof just because she could. If it was anyone but Vanessa, Brooke would think it was made-up, but she knows Vanessa isn’t a liar. There’s something about her that Brooke trusts without question, a trust she’s never had with anyone before. 

The food settles in front of them, and Brooke can tell the atmosphere is changing to something more serious, her hunter training leaving her sensitive to the slightest difference. 

“So, did you always want to be a hunter?” Vanessa asks around a mouthful of meatballs. 

Brooke fidgets with her fork. “I mean, I figured I would be eventually, but when I was a kid I wanted…” She smiles wistfully and shakes her head. “It’s dumb.”

“I’ve seen lots of dumb shit in my life, Brooke. Silky attaching our Slip N’ Slide to the roof is definitely in the top five. I don’t think anything about you is dumb.”

Brooke nods. She’s never had anything besides bar pick-ups and one-night stands, never shared much about herself with anyone. She takes a deep breath. “I wanted to design dance costumes.”

Her parents always said she didn’t have to hunt if she didn’t want to, but her family had hunted for generations. Brooke grew up hearing the stories of her family, all the good they did saving people, and she didn’t really see it as an option not to follow in their footsteps. Making ballet costumes was just something to push vampire legends out of her head when she was bored, or when she was tossing and turning in the spare bedroom at her grandparents’ house when her parents were on a hunt, wide-awake with fear that they wouldn’t come back to get her in the morning.

“That’s cute!” Vanessa squeals. “You danced?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid. After my parents died, and I moved in with my grandparents, I kinda just...stopped. They let me do unofficial hunter training, and that was all I really focused on.”

Training had taken the place of dancing in a way, at least in regards to her body. Brooke liked to move physically, liked having actions to follow that cleared her mind and gave her something to focus on, and if the ache in her limbs came from leaping on pointe or kicking at a punching bag, it didn’t really matter.

“That’s too bad,” Vanessa says quietly, and Brooke knows she means it. Her face heats up and she quickly shifts the attention away from herself. 

“So, have you done anything exciting? I mean, you’ve been around a while.”

“You callin’ me old?” Vanessa cackles. “Nah, I’ve definitely seen some shit in my day. My parents forced me to go to these lessons where they taught me to act all ‘lady-like’. Didn’t work out for them, huh?” She roars with laughter, stabbing at another meatball as she continues. “I liked to dance, but I wasn’t too good. As for jobs, there weren’t a whole lot of options in those days. After I fell out with my parents, I kinda drifted. Helped people where I could, you know? I’d walk around looking for people in trouble and calling ambulances. I stole money from CEO’s and gave it to people that needed it, paid hospital bills and shit. I try to bring down one corporation per decade.” 

Brooke knew Vanessa didn’t harm humans, but she never would have guessed all of this. She finds all her doubts destroyed to nothing. Maybe good and evil, right and wrong, didn’t always have to come down to rules. 

“That’s really nice, actually.”

Vanessa shrugs. “My parents were assholes. Not even like, baby boomer assholes that destroy the economy and yell at waitresses and discriminate against people and think it’s okay if they go to church and shit. Straight-up real, murderous assholes. I don’t want to be like them.”

“I can tell you that you’re not,” Brooke ventures, sliding her hand across the table to hold Vanessa’s.

“I guess not,” she muses, gripping back. “And you’re not like those other hunters that kill without question, Brooke.”

_I was though_, Brooke thinks. _I killed any vampire that even looked at me because of what happened to my parents. I even wanted to kill Vanessa._

Brooke knows that while Vanessa isn’t, nearly every other vampire is truly evil, killing people for fun. But she also knows now that all the killing in the world can’t bring her parents back, something she didn’t understand at 11, or even at 18 when she started. She’ll still continue to fight evil, but remember that protecting the good is what she really wanted to do all her life. 

“Don’t you be overthinkin’, Brooke. Basically every vampire in the world is an asshole, I promise you that. You know how many people you’ve saved? You’re one of the good ones.”

Brooke nods. Someone like Vanessa has seen a lot, and if she sees the good in Brooke, maybe Brooke can see it in herself. 

“You think we could go back to your place?” Vanessa’s voice is hopeful. 

“Of course.”

Somehow Brooke still follows the speed limit, her heart faster than the car at the thought of Vanessa in her bed. 

—-

_Finally, there were all-purpose rules. Life rules that Brooke had been taught since she was a child rolling around in the grass and watching rabbits in her backyard. _

_Help other people. Be kind. Treat others how you want to be treated. _

_Brooke always thought she did her best to follow these, and she knows that Vanessa did too. _

_Though the rules Brooke has followed all her life mark Vanessa as a monster, Brooke knows in her heart that she’s not. _

_And she loves her._

—-

Vanessa sinks into Brooke’s mattress and her lips travel up Brooke’s collarbone, trailing soft kisses all the way that make Brooke close her eyes in delight, but then the lips brush against her neck--_Don’t ever let them get near your neck_, that was the first rule--and her eyes snap open. She jumps back from Vanessa and with reflexes sharpened by years of training has her fist closed around the stake in an instant, the smooth wood in her hand only intensifying the thought that she’s in a fight, that she’s in danger, and she can’t gain control of her rapid breathing. 

“Hey,” Vanessa says gently, standing with her hands up. “I know you’re always in hunting mode, but you don’t need to be with me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She knows Vanessa won’t hurt her, but she’s the exception here. Several other vampires will hurt her, _have_ hurt her, leaving cuts and bruises that healed and scars and fears that haven’t. But Vanessa keeps whispering that it’s okay and Brooke restores her breaths to the slow, steady rise she uses to avoid detection in the woods. She doesn’t always have to hunt. She is safe. She is still good. The stake thuds onto the dresser. 

“I’m okay,” she insists to Vanessa’s worried eyes. The worry Vanessa has for her reminds Brooke that she’s safe, that she’s _loved_. She never imagined that love could come from a vampire, or that her body would hum with love in return. 

“I’m okay,” she repeats, guiding Vanessa back to the bed and helping her pull the red dress off. “Now, where were we?”

\---

“Hey, Brooke?” Vanessa hisses across the mattress. 

“What?”

“You got air freshener in your bathroom?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

Vanessa leaps out of bed, whistling in relief. “Garlic doesn’t kill us but it sure does make things ugly in the bathroom.”

Brooke snorts into her pillow, waiting for Vanessa to return in a cloud of citrus air freshener before pulling her fuzzy blanket over both of them and drifting off to sleep.


End file.
